counting dazed & confused numbers
by another moment gone
Summary: One-shot. "Massie Block finds love in the most unexpected of places, under the most peculiar situations with the one&only boy who taught her how to ride a bike at the age of eighteen. It's never too late to learn how to ride a bike." For Livvy! R&R


_co_unting **daze**d _& _confused _numb_er**s**

-:-

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><p>Note: One-shot. For Livvy for being such an amazing writer and a big supporter in my fanfiction life and apparently your birthday(:<br>Enjoy!

**Song Recommendation: **"She was Mine" –AJ Rafael Ft. Jesse Barrera

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><p>[]

**one-sixteen**

It's no wonder that life is full of infinite numbers. Time is kept carefully with aging numbers, passing each measure of time; caught-embarrassed-gazes are measured in each blush, and then there's the extreme counting down the days until things get better.

She finds herself standing stoically under the faded lights that are casting blank, ominous shadows. She shudders though. She turns to stare with her arms folded across her chest in a posture that often reminds herself of her—

"So this is it?" She hears her voice and its evident state of shock, it cracks. She doesn't recognize how damn sad she sounds—she's turned into a messy puddle that soberly reminds her of blessed Kendra.

"_Don't leave me," her mother had begged. Massie's perch was careful against the stairwell and there was no way Kendra or William could spy out their only-daughter, shivering and holding back sobs, watching her only daddy take those final steps away from his family_.

"_I can't handle this," William told her with a defeated stare. He gazed out blankly—because that's exactly what face expression he's learnt to bare under these precarious situations and burdens—blank. Careless. _

_The rain simply picked up its patters and soon, the thunder is clattering all around the murky skies. _

_As her daddy picks up his large duffel bags, briefcase, and coat, he prepares to step into the pouring rain where the taxi driver was stalled. In shortened words, less detailed ones, and more blunt ones: he picks up his belongings and leaves his old life in search of a brand new white canvas. _

"_Please don't leave," Kendra pleaded, disregarding any dignity or respect she had left for her pride._

"_I'm sorry," he said tonelessly as he stepped through the doorway, not looking sorry at all._

"_William…" She leaned against the doorframe for the much-needed support. "Come back…"_

Massie shakes her head, a weak attempt to forget about the crystal clear memories. Today is now, and the other day was almost eight years ago. She was a mere age of the tender ten when her dad walked out on them.

Now, she stands defiantly with strings hanging over her head. "You're going back then?" She hates the sound of bitterness that lingers in the air.

Derrick makes the gesture that he'd walk forward to cup her face, but he doesn't. Instead, he reaches a hand out and pulls if back. He thinks better of his actions.

"Just like that," she doesn't leave any room for discussion or debates.

-:-

**one**

The minute she walks into the little new café, novel in hand, money in pocket, she strides to an empty table right near the window. It had the best view in the entire café.

"Can I take your order?" A friendly young waitress, no older than Massie herself, asks.

Massie turns to look at the nametag tagged onto the girl's uniform. "Yeah," Massie answers, "I'd like a coffee."

"How would you like it?" Alicia asks, scribing messily onto her pad of paper.

"Black," Massie says.

"Black?" Alicia's eyebrows scrunch together in surprise, "Well, okay…"

Massie shoots her a smile and before she knows it, her nose is jammed into her latest infatuated novel, The Scarlet Letter. It had always been one of her favorites; probably because of Hester's strength to endure the terrible things people say about her.

"Thanks."

She reads for another moment until someone clears his or her throat in front of her. "Excuse me?"

She lifts her eyes and raises an eyebrow when she see's a boy that has to be an age similar to her own.

She doesn't say anything.

"I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Alicia," he says, "but you want _black_ coffee?" His face contorts into disgust.

Immediately her walls are up. The boy is good looking and he's got a boyish face that simply reminds her of first and only and _last_ boyfriend: Todd Lyons.

"Yes," she says indignantly, nose in the air, "I do. Do you have a problem with that? Because if you do—that's too bad for you." She glances quickly at her watch, _3:45pm_.

He raises his hands up in mere surrender, "I don't have a problem… I just think it's gross."

She shoots him an unfriendly glare. He backs up a step, then steps forward again with a little more confidence.

"Do you want to take this discussion and tuck it away for now then bring it back out later tomorrow over, say, dinner?" He asks this as if there were no room for an answer.

He braces himself for his usual-expected-response.

"_No_." She replies airily.

His eyes widen, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she sighs and glances at her book.

"So yes to tomorrow?" He asks, trying to hide a grin.

She groans, already feeling the bite of her irritation. "I said _no_, please leave me alone."

Alicia returns shortly with a white mug filled with simple, black coffee. "Here you go—Derrick? What are you doing here?" She asks this with a familiar voice; clearly they have relations before.

"Coffee," he gestures towards his nook with his bio homework and now-cold coffee.

"Oh," The Spanish girl trailed.

"See you tomorrow," he waves his hand, "meet out in front of here? Say…7:30?"

"Wait," she stops, "I never agreed—"

Before she can finish her sentence, he's already charging out the door with his books in arms and his coffee in hands.

"What the hell," Massie murmurs.

"Guess you've got a date," Alicia smiles meekly and heads away.

-:-

**two**

Somehow, she finds herself standing in front of the little café with the white and blue shutters, dressed in a warm plaid scarf and black pea coat with a beautiful white dress underneath.

_It's not a date_, she chants in her mind, _just random people crashing into each other_.

"I knew you'd show," he says with a dazzling smile. She pulls her coat closer to her bosom and offers him her attention.

"I reserved a dinner for two at this local hot-shot restaurant," he explains, "it's fancy."

She's suddenly thrilled she dressed up more than casually and disgusted by herself for even thinking like that.

"Okay," she says quietly, "I can't promise you anything though." He shakes his head and laughs.

"I'm Derrick Harrington, by the way," He sticks out his hand and offers her another wonderful smile.

"Massie Block. No promises," she reminds.

"A beautiful mistake to meet you, Massie Block No Promises." His laughter chimes. And soon, she finds herself offering him more than her attention.

-:-

**ten**

Those first _random strangers meeting up together_ shifted ever so slightly. Rather than strangers, it brightened into _casual people who run into each other often_.

"Fate," he claims as they discuss their continuous meet-ups.

"Random," she argues, trying not to leave any room for argument.

"It's fate." He insists with his boyish grin intact.

"_Random_," she says a little less sternly than before. She puts her feet up on his coffee table and flips channels.

"Friends," he decides. "Friends only feel comfortable to be able to put their feet on my coffee table and change my channels."

"Acquaintances," she levels with a half-smile.

"I'll deal with that."

-:-

**twenty-one**

"Yeah!" They cheer in perfect unison, jumping up simultaneously.

"You've got it Tim Thomas," Massie cheers with the biggest eyes ever. Derrick hip-checks her.

"You're the best," he adds in the Bruins' goalie's favor.

"I can't believe we're really here," she exclaims, gesturing around the rink, the Bruins' home. "This is a dream come true."

He shrugs, "It was nothing. My dad has connections—probably too many," he mutters.

Slightly distracted, she turns and stares at him. "Huh? What did you say?"

"Nothing," he backs from his earlier thoughts and enjoys the moment with this familiar stranger.

"_Yes!"_ She cheers excitedly, jumping into Derrick's awaiting arms.

The camera that shows fans on the big screen; it turns and zooms on Massie and Derrick. She's hugging him tightly and laughing and he has his arms naturally around her waist.

"They won!"

"We're on the screen," he says.

She glances and quickly pulls from his awaiting arms. "Oh," she drops her hands and sticks them stiffly by her side. Out of desperate measures, she reaches over and stuffs a handful of popcorn into her mouth. Conversation would be impossible if her mouth was full.

-:-

**thirty-four**

"Why have I never seen you before?" She asks him one day as they walk his dog, Booger. She tugs the leash when Booger tries and stops to eat the trash on the park's sidewalk.

She reaches down and picks up the surrounding trash and stabs it into the trashcan. "People litter too much," she feels the need to explain when he stares at her.

"I'm here for now," he says vaguely. "Want an ice-cream?"

"Depends on what kind," she lets his strange behavior slide; she's got stiches and seams she doesn't want to be cut open either.

"Well," he prompts, "if we're friends than I guess it can be _any_ kind."

"You're far too kind," she says with a grin, hating herself for even allowing him to think she's his friend.

They walk for a few more feet.

"Fine, _friend_," she interrupts his thoughts, "I want a double-Oreo blizzard."

"You can only get that at Dairy Queen!" He insists.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" She tugs Booger's leash and begins to run, grateful she decided to wear sneakers.

"Not fair, Block," he calls from behind.

She let's out a breathy laugh and keeps running.

-:-

**forty-six**

Their small talk melted like the ice cream blizzards they shared a few weeks ago. Her careful impenetrable wall was struggling and beginning to piece away each and every brick.

Slowly, and steadily, Derrick Harrington was tearing away her precarious walls.

On particularly stressful days, she lies back on her couch and lets him massage her bare feet.

Their banter continues but their discussions become _too_ meaningful. He tells her of his war-experience. She tells him she doesn't want him back in the army. He tells her it's his commitment and he's got no choice—but not to worry, he adds, I won't be drafted again anytime soon.

He tells her about his family and how important they are to him, especially his younger sister, Sammi. He makes her promise not to let Sammi do anything stupid over boys. He also swears that when Sammi is old enough, she will be a beautiful, intelligent girl.

_Like you_, he adds mindfully. She blushed profusely.

She tells him about how her mother Kendra is a crazy bitch. She explains that Kendra was messed up for a very long time after her father William left them when she was only ten. She even shares with him that Kendra is an alcoholic and never taught her how to ride a bike. She even admits that her heart broke and never fully mended to this day.

He promises to fix that. She turns her head and pretends she didn't hear the surety and confidence in his fully loaded vow.

"No promises," she reminds him with a slight scowl.

-:-

**fifty-eight**

"Can we be more than friends?" He was bargaining for more than she was willing to share.

"No," she snaps, shooting him irritated glares.

"What if I kiss you?" he asks confidently, sliding closer to in his chair.

She moved her arm from the armrest and adjusted herself to face the movie-screen in a manner that Derrick couldn't possibly reach her face.

"It won't be possible," she says smugly now, turning to shoot him a smirk.

Except he catches her face in his gentle, large hands and holds her tight. Their faces are suddenly inches away; perhaps, one mere inch away; barely any space to share her own breath.

"Now it is," he whispers, and plants a gentle kiss on her forehead. Then slowly, he kisses her nose and lets out a breathy chuckle. "You have a cute nose—I had to."

She glares at him and fights every ounce in her body to reach over and smack her lips to his. But instead, she shakes it off, pretends it was a friend-only-gesture, and turns to face the screen.

She doesn't dare catch his gazes. (She can barely catch her breath.)

-:-

**seventy-one**

Their discussions melted under the hot summer skies and the blindingly bright sun. At first things were simple, then it became difficult and overwhelming. Rocky.

The fateful day happened on day seventy-one. Her head was resting on his shoulder, his arm naturally around her waist. She sighs content and whisper-admits, "I feel like you're leaving me."

"I wouldn't," he says fiercely.

She didn't even check his eyes for the truth—afraid of the lies hidden behind his framed dark coal-black lashes, sitting like fallen ashes in the depths of his brown eyes.

Its no wonder brown soon became her favorite color.

"Promise?" She asks, turning to gaze into those familiar Hershey chocolate irises.

"I'll always be here for you."

-:-

**seventy-seven**

Her first encounter with his parents was awkward; small talk, slight bantering and debating during dinner, and the expected 'are you his girlfriend?' charade.

But now she was often at their house for holidays and things were becoming simple and easy to become accustomed to.

"Cookies?" Massie asks with utter excitement, her shady eyes bright and joyful. "Can I help? Please!"

Mrs. Harrington blushes but nonetheless, nods quickly. She had never had a daughter that cared for baking.

Derrick watches from the stairs and can't help but smile peacefully. And churn with guilt.

-:-

**eighty-one**

"Where are you taking me?" She asks, feeling the inner giddy child inside of her. He leads her silently, his fingers intertwined with hers—despite her resistance—and continuously tells _shh _when she asks.

He pulls off the blindfold and the first thing she see's is his face. His tan, sun-kissed skin, his brilliant lips turned upwards in what could only be satisfaction, his alluring brown eyes, his sandy blond mop-like hair, and his perfect nose.

The next thing she see's is the thing with two wheels, a seat, and a horn.

"So you can warn someone before you hit them," he adds when he see's her gaping at the horn. "It'll come in handy, trust me."

His words rung in her head: _trust me_…

"A bike?" Her voice is high and sounds thick. Tears spring at her eyes and soon she wishes she never told him that she never learnt how to ride a bike.

Now he'll _never_ be able to be forgotten.

"Yeah," he says excitedly, "I'll teach you and everything."

She shakes her head, angrily trying to pull herself from his burning, hot touch. "No, don't."

His face drops and confusion is wiped onto his face. "What did I do wrong?"

"Everything," she whispers coldly. "You're not _supposed _to remember the things I've said. You shouldn't even have been listening to me ranting that day. I was on my period or something," she lies.

He looks taken back, "What are you talking about?"

She pulls her hand back when he tries to grasp her fingers the way he had done so many countless times before.

"This isn't friendship," she glares at him, "this is _more_ than what friends would do. Even _I _know that."

He raises his hands up in the air and curses. "I want to _help_," he says this loudly.

"I don't _want_ your help, Derrick." She snaps harshly. "I wanted someone to spend time with, _not fall in love with_." The words fall out of her mouth, past her lips, much, much faster than she could even recall. They snapped her back like a strung out rubber band and soon she was striding for the nearest bus-station near this pier.

"Wait, Block," he begs. He tugs her arm and she snaps her head to give him the dirtiest look she could must at this given moment.

"Let go of me," she says as calmly and deadly as she can.

"Not until you let me help you," he deadpans.

She struggles under his stern, but gentle, touch. She prepares herself for a good scream but stops herself when she notices the hard stare in his eyes.

Then she says the words she's wanted to be true all this time; the only words that would hurt him, or her herself, to leave each other alone.

"I hate you."

Instead of a hurt slap across his face, he grips her hand tighter, maneuvering them to intertwine with her hand; as if they were holding hands once again.

"That's too bad," he whispers, his face getting uncomfortably close—too close for comfort. "Because," he trails his lips dangerously close to ear. "I love you."

Abruptly her defense is weak and her wall loses more countless bricks.

"I," she tries but no words slip from her lips anymore. She is exhausted.

Hesitantly almost, he leans forward and plants a soft kiss on her lips. He doesn't wait for a reaction because it happens faster than she herself planned. Soon, she's feverishly kissing him as if the world were ending—in a way it was—and she has her hands tangled in his blond mesh of sandy hair.

The best part of the kiss was that she could feel his smile through their kiss.

-:-

**eighty-five**

"I can't ride this damn back," she complains, taking yet another fall to the sandy ground below.

"You can do it," he encourages, "I know you're capable of it."

"Not so much," she grumbles in disagreement but returns to the bike's seat.

"If you can ride to that pole," he points, "right there, I will give you a kiss that will make you dizzy."

She shoots him a pointed glare but determination burned in her eyes and said otherwise.

"Fine," she says, never one to turn down a challenge and a breathtaking kiss.

She peddles unsteadily at first, wobbling from the left to right, the front wheel tittering along, her feet picking and pressing down, her hair blowing in the wind—the ground slams onto her face.

Pain.

"Are you okay?" He exclaims, by her side within seconds.

She groans in pain, "Ow."

"I'll kiss it?" He offers and laughs when she glares at him. She has cuts on her cheeks and skids on her palms, but nonetheless, he kisses her cheeks, both, and gentle as a feather, kisses each fingertip and both palms.

Although Kendra never kissed her boo boo's, she's always heard that when people kissed your boo boo, it felt drastically better.

The saying was mighty true.

"Better?" He whispers, his face close once again. His smile is blindingly beautiful.

"I have a cut on my lips…" she trails with a wicked grin.

He laughs and kisses her lips solidly.

-:-

**ninety **

"You're doing it!" He shouts from down the pier, "I'm so proud." She peddles back to him, the forgotten cuts fading from her face and hands.

"I'm doing it," she exclaims herself, excitement radiating in her voice. She peddles closer to him. Then peddles to the very end of the pier where he stood.

"How do I break?" She calls as she speeds towards him.

"Shit," he barely gets out before she's ramming them both into the shallow waters of the ocean below.

The bike flies in, Derrick in front of it, Massie flying off it. The water is refreshingly cool and the sun was setting, sending flying bright dabbed colors all along the streaming sky.

She resurfaces first, noticing the bike sinking to the very bottom of the ocean. Derrick resurfaced quickly.

"The bike!"

He dives without another word and brings it back up, gasping for air and tasting the salt from the ocean.

"Are you okay?" She asks, treading the ocean waters with a hidden smile.

"You're wicked, Massie Block." He declares, noticing the unmistakable grin forming on her face.

-:-

**ninety-four**

"Ready for the bike ride?" He asks while grabbing his helmet off the hook in the garage.

"We're eighteen," she says with a laugh, "and we're riding bikes."

"As opposed to…" he trails with a matching smile.

"Cars? Maybe?"

He shakes his head good-mannered, "Nah. Unicorns are better."

"Unicorns _what?_"

She's laughing as tears stream down her face and soon he's laughing too. Before she can recall this memory, she's forgotten why she was so happy. Then she glances at him.

She remembers why, now.

-:-

**ninety-nine**

They walk home in comfortable silence, allowing the crickets to do all the talking.

Then he perks up and his eyes widen in excitement, he grabs her wrists and locks eyes with her. "Have you ever," he says with a very serious voice, "laid in the middle of the road before?"

Her confusion was smacked dab on her face under the street lamps. "No…"

"C'mon then," he tugs her arm and pulls her onto the nearby street, off the safe sidewalk.

"This is dangerous," she comments with a squeal. He intertwines their fingers and promptly lies down on the dark, cold pavement.

"C'mere," he tugs her forward and she imitates him.

They lie together, stretched out like starfishes, fingers twined together tightly. He rolls his head to give her a breathtaking smile; a smile of a winner's.

"Why are you so happy?" She asks, wondering what's going on in his head. He happens to be a month older than her, but she swears he acts six years younger than they are. She's breathless.

"I don't know," he admits, staring at the sky. She turns her head up and gazes at the stars with an even gaze. "I guess you make me that way."

She turns to roll her eyes at him with the classic, clichéd line but all she see's is the sincerity in his eyes.

She stares up into the night sky and counts the stars that shine the brightest. She thinks to herself: _he's the brightest out of all these stars, though._

"Shit," he mumbles when bright blinding lights appear out of nowhere. He grips her hand tightly and tugs her to the sidewalk in record time. He's stunned but soon she finds herself giggling uncontrollably—the abs-splitting kind of laughter.

He watches her then finds his own laughter.

-:-

**one-oh-six**

"Happy birthday," his family sings.

Sammi delicately drags a huge box to Massie's feet. . She glances up in surprise at the friendly gesture, but her eyes cast downwards with curiosity.

"It's from mom, dad and I," she admits sheepishly. "We figured Derrick's girlfriend should get a nice present."

Massie finds herself flushing under the kitchen lights.

"Open it," Mr. Harrington encourages with his happy smile.

She tears open the present with slight aggression; excitement is burning in her amber eyes. She claps with absolute delight when she finds a brand new bike.

"Derrick told us he taught you how to ride," Mrs. Harrington explains with a proud face expression on her delicate features.

Massie sniffles. "Thank you _so _much." She jumps to her feet and hugs his mom, his dad, and his little sister.

"My turn," Derrick interrupts with an easy grin. He reaches behind his back and pulls out a box.

She opens it slowly. Relishing the moment.

When she see's what is inside, she can't help but laugh. Inside the delicate Tiffany box was a Spider Man Band-Aid.

"You're a jerk," Massie jokes, laughing her head off.

"I know," he says good-naturedly. He reaches over, kisses her forehead.

"I'll give you your real present when we're alone," he assures her in a hushed whisper.

"Now let's eat the cake!"

-:-

They walk the pier; it's got to be at least 10:30pm. No one's around but the streetlights are on. He walks hand in hand with her.

"Good birthday?" He asks confidently.

"Amazing," she agrees. "Your family is so kind."

"Where's your mom?" He asks suddenly. She shrugs and stares off into the distance.

"Probably banging the bar tender," she meant for it to sound like a joke but even she could distinguish the bitterness in her voice. "Whatever."

"Nothing a kiss can't fix," he jokes. She leans over and kisses his cheek with an innocent smile.

"Now for your gift from _me_," he says with a shocking blush.

"What is it?" She demands impatiently, giddy once again.

"Patience," he murmurs, pulling out another robin-colored box from his back pocket. "Here,"

She takes it gently and opens it slowly.

"A necklace," she breathes. There was a golden chain and a golden pendant; a bike to be exact. It had a small diamond in the center; actually, a ruby.

"Your birthstone," he whispers, his breath on her neck. Goosebumps trail all along her arms and she reaches around to kiss him deeply.

"Thank you," she whispers breathlessly.

He puts it on with exaggerated slow-movements.

"Best birthday," she repeats as they sit on the pier.

-:-

**one-twelve**

She tugs his arm childishly and impatiently. She leads him to the pier where they shared so many memories before. She tugs him harder because he walks so damn slowly.

But he wasn't himself today. The letter arrived in the mailbox only two days and he still couldn't figure out how to explain.

"Win me a unicorn?" She asks, gazing longingly at the pier's games. A local carnival had arrived yesterday.

"Sure, sure."

He plays the game effortlessly and she points to the huge unicorn hanging from the top of the booth. "Thank you," she kisses him lightly on the lips. She closes her eyes and opens them when something feels wrong.

His eyes were staring back at hers; not closed. Open. Wide. Open.

"I have to tell you something," he says, dragging her slowly to the wooden bench.

"What is it?" She asks, fear and apprehension tinting her voice. She didn't care enough.

He takes a deep breath and avoids her gaze.

"Tell me," she demands hoarsely.

"I'vebeendraftedback."

"Huh?"

"I've been drafted back, Massie." His voice cracks.

And so does her heart.

She's quiet for a attentive moment and knows better than to grab her hand. She's thinking, processing, planning, scheming, doing god knows what.

"You're not going back are you?" Fear laces in her thick voice.

He doesn't respond.

"_Are you_?" She doesn't wait for an answer because he waited too long. "I will never forgive you," she says so calmly and coldly that he feels his own chest ache.

She slams the unicorn onto his lap and jumps to her feet. She begins to run so fast; as fast as her long legs would take her.

He knows better than to chase her because he knows the truth.

And so does she.

-:-

_song recommendation: _"that girl" –David Choi

**one-sixteen**

A simple phone call, four days after. A simple damn phone call.

"Meet me at the pier in an hour," he said shortly, hanging up without a response.

She hates herself for it. In fact, she hates herself for everything; she let herself go off track, she let herself fall in love with this damned boy. She even let herself learn how to ride a bike even though she promised herself back all those years that when her dad came back, he'd be the first one to teach her.

But her dad never came up and Derrick showed up in that empty café all sandy blond hair and beautiful browns and sly grins and all.

He stood at the pier, a shadow casting onto the vacant pier's tip.

"Hi," she thinks she whispered. She couldn't tell though, her voice was so thick and hoarse from crying that talking hurt her dry throat.

"Hi,"

Then all of a sudden, she realizes the situation at hand. Derrick was leaving—her—and probably wouldn't ever come back, knowing this war.

Suddenly she is so damn angry. She is passed the point of furious; she is full of pained _rage_. She stands defiantly with strings hanging over her head. "You're going back then?" She hates the sound of bitterness that lingers in the air.

Derrick makes the gesture that he'd walk forward to cup her face, but he doesn't. Instead, he reaches a hand out and pulls if back. He thinks better of his actions.

"Just like that," she doesn't leave any room for discussion or debates. "You damned boy." She rarely curses aloud.

He opens his mouth and closes it again, his eyes meeting hers finally. "You _coward_, how could you even let this happen? I promised myself this wouldn't happen and I _swore on my life_ that I wouldn't make you any promises but god Damnit here I am—cursing at you because I broke my promises just for you."

His face breaks at her words.

"How could you do this to me?" She whispers and sniffles, hating the thickness of her voice.

"I'm sorry," he says so quietly it was practically inaudible.

"You should be," she feels the hate and anger thread through her veins once again. "I hate you so much Derrick Harrington. So, damn much."

"I have to go," he insists weakly.

"You don't have to do _anything you don't want to_," she snaps, her eyes brimming with angry tears. She wants to slap herself for being so angry that she cries.

She's so frustrated.

"What about my plans?" He demands suddenly livid, "I didn't plan on falling in love with you. I figured you and I wouldn't turn into what we are now—I tried so hard to prevent this. But when you told me you were in love with me," his face became soft and a hint of a faded smile appears, "then I knew you, Massie Block, was the one thing that made me want to _never_ leave."

"Too bad you are," she replies coldly.

He nods, "I understand if you don't want to see me again."

She nods her head, "Good."

He lifts his feet to turn on his heel, determined to not glance back in the clichéd manner; he lost her. He really, really, truly lost her.

"But," she begins, "I can wait."

He doesn't believe his ears. He really, really doesn't. He turns back slowly, on his heels, to gaze at the beautiful girl he's come to love with more than just his heart.

"I'll be for a year," he pushes his chances. "Maybe more."

She shakes her head and at first he thinks she's changed her mind already. "I'll write," she assures. "And you'll write me. Every god damn day."

He nods reverently. "Every day."

"Good," she sighs, her hair falling into her eyes. He wipes her swept bangs to the side and kisses her right on her lips for a slow, tender kiss.

"I leave tomorrow."

"I assumed that," she mumbles.

"Goodbye,"

"I don't like the sound of goodbyes," she whispers.

"See you later," he amends weakly.

"See you later, Harrington."

It only took sixty of those days for her to fall in love with Derrick Anthony Harrington.

-:-

_Song recommendation: _"by my side" –David Choi

**Epilogue**

_Dear Block,_

_Today we're stationed somewhere in the tropical area. I can't tell you where, but I can tell you I'm only kind of scared. Yes, there's a chance I could die, but at least I'll die with the best memories of us. I'm writing you as we sit all cramped on a plane. The boys think you're gorgeous when I showed them your picture. They say you're a 'keeper.'_

_I miss you so much, Massie._

_I will write you soon. I expect a response._

_Take care of Sammi for me, okay? Tell mom and dad I love them._

_Oh, and I guess, I love you too.(:_

_Always yours,_

_D. _

Through her tears, she smiles.

_D,_

_Your penmanship is hard to read but I like how sloppy it is. Promise me something, alright? Don't try and be some damned hero; when you need to run, you better run like a bat out of hell. I don't want any phone-calls at deathly hours letting me know you have been shot. –shudders- _

_I miss you more every day. _

_Faithfully,_

_Block_

He grins.

_Dear Block,_

_Today we got ambushed but it wasn't too bad. No one was killed—just injured. I got your note a month later than expected but it made my day. I can't wait to kiss you, y'know? I'm sick of this crap they call 'food.' I'm ready for some real meals._

_Some manly meals, y'know?_

_Sorry to be talking about meals, Block, I just miss you and everytime I think of you, I can't help but think of food. Two loves of my life(;_

_Sorry to cut the letter short, but I have to go on a patrol._

_I'll be safe._

_Always yours,_

_D._

She cries once again through her thick smile.

_D,_

_The stars were beautiful tonight. I laid on the pier the other night, with Sammi, and together we counted the brightest of the stars. I thought of you—you're much brighter than any of those damn stars._

_I miss you, Harrington. I'll send you a care-package. Your parents say hello and Sammi says you owe her twenty-bucks. She says you'd know why._

_And did I mention that you're coming home in two weeks? TWO FREAKING WEEKS!_

_Faithfully,_

_Block_

She seals the envelope with a kiss for good luck.

Her phone rings at a deathly hour of 2:03am.

Immediately her heart stops and she struggles for air.

The voice on the other end is tired, "Open your door, Miss."

She runs to the door, takes a deep breath, and expects the worst.

He stands all bulky, chiseled, and tall. His brown eyes are dark under this given light. But she's never been so glad in her life.

"Surprise!"

* * *

><p>-:-<p>

I wrote this for Livvy because she's so amazing and this took me so much longer than I expected; longest one-shot EVER. Hope you enjoyed it, Livvy!

Reviews would be lovely(:

As always,

-another moment gone-


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